


Tooth and Snout

by Agent_Fluff



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Asexual Character, F/F, First Time Shifting, Freelancers - Freeform, Illegal Activities, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mercenaries, Multi, PTSD, Pack Bonding, Pack Dynamics, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-04-17 18:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4676279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_Fluff/pseuds/Agent_Fluff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the times of war and domestic terrorism, fear does crazy things to those in power. Project Freelancer was no exception. Illegal genetic experimentations lead to the military's own special brand of werewolves. The project was eventually shut down, leaving the straggling loose ends to fend for themselves as they track down the insane, and missing, former Director of Project Freelancer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This entire ordeal will be from Washington's perspective, so you get a first hand look at what happens when you're bitten.

_The wind’s rough and keeps threatening to blow him over, but he keeps his position. Low and aimed at the enemy’s chest. He’d kill the guard within seconds, but he doesn’t._

_Something’s not right._

_The guards don’t appear to be worried at all that they’re guarding incredibly valuable military information. In fact, they seem...relaxed._

_Realign gun for the sixth time._

_His body starts shaking from the cold, but his arms remain still._

_There’s a crack of sticks to his left. Someone’s near._

_He keeps a hand on the sniper rifle and moves the other hand to the pistol hidden in his waistband as he scans the area around him._

_There’s yelling somewhere in the distance, but it’s not from the guards._

_Something’s wrong._

_Out from his left something darts behind the trees. He pulls away from the rifle and draws the pistol this time, sitting up and ready to shoot at the slightest movement._

_Something’s on him._

_There’s biting. His flesh is burning. He hears something tearing. It’s his skin. There’s warmth seeping from him._

_His own blood is coating him. He’s so warm, yet so cold. The monster on top of him is soft but unrelenting. There’s a loud crack and he knows it’s his bones._

_He knows he’s going to die. The last things he sees are those eyes. Pure white._

_Those eyes..._

 

Washington awakes in a cold sweat, gripping the sheets so tight his knuckles are white. His breathing’s erratic, his throat’s burning, and the room’s spinning. Distantly, he can hear himself scream, phantom pains seemingly licking his bones. Everything around him is jumbled and separated from his senses, like he's watching a home movie from his own perspective.

 

A woman bursts through the door, grabbing onto his forearm in an attempt to ground him. He tries to throw her grip off, but it only tightens as she flips his arm to expose the underside. There’s a sharp piercing as he sees her push a needle into the soft flesh. He's been through worse than this before. Why was his body reacting so violently? She loses her grip on the syringe after she pulls it out of him and it shatters on the floor.

 

He hears her murmuring some curses under her breath and something about the custodian. Wash regrets the panic he caused her, but can't muster the energy to vocalize his sorrow. She must’ve given him a shot of tranquilizer. He can feel himself slipping away from consciousness as he overhears her voice from the hall. Two black-outs in one day is the last thing he needs.

 

“He’s thrashing around hard, Dr. Grey. Probably ripped open most of his stomach stitches. Do you think he can survive another round of intensive surgery?”

 

There’s a silence between them, and he doesn't want to think about what that means. Washington blinks at the encroaching blackness in his vision, fighting the urge to succumb to the pull of sleep.

 

“I don’t know, Katie.”

 

Washington hisses as his will to fight against sleep fades, fatigue eventually taking over him and everything goes black.

 

* * *

 

Washington wakes to a pounding in his head and unfamiliar surroundings. He knows he’s in a hospital room, but he doesn’t remember getting there. It’s unlike himself to be so put out like he is.

 

The windows are drawn tightly shut and the light’s been left on in his room. There’s an eerie stillness in the hospital. Wash figures it must be the night shift. He shifts around, pulling himself up enough to sit, but unable to move his arms. The techs must have bound them after his incident. He pondered the ethicality of tying him down but let the thought slip.

 

Washington’s itching to leave the bed. There’s pain shooting up his legs that he hasn’t felt since his teenage years when he was lanky and still growing.

 

_Growing pains? That can’t be right._

 

Vaguely he hears a woman’s voice outside his room informing someone that visiting hours are over. He registers a second, move smooth voice replying. Almost flirting. Something in his tone soothes Washington for some unknown reason, and he curses himself for it. Footsteps sound down the hall and part of him hopes the visitor isn’t for him. He didn’t want to deal with Tex after blowing their stealth mission sky high, nor did he want to deal with his sister’s rage over accepting another job with Texas.

 

The footsteps stop outside his room and there’s a knock at the door. He winces at the noise as his head processes it, making his headache worse.

 

Wash let’s out a sigh of relief that it wasn’t Texas come to kick his ass. She’d have just kicked the door in and chewed him out. As a matter of fact, so would his sister.

 

The door opened and a man entered with a tray of food. Washington’s stomach rumbled as he stared at the meal, unaware that he’d been hungry at all.

 

“Who are you?” Washington asked incredulously. He watched other man carefully as he shifted his position at the foot of Washington’s bed. Open and giving off an aura of inviting, but still guarded. He relaxed a little bit at the man’s body language.

 

“Name’s York. Carolina sent me over. I stopped by the mess hall on my way up, snagged you that meal.” He replied, setting the tray on Washington’s lap as he untied the arm restraints.

 

Washington looked speculatively at York, trying to place if the man was using him. York clearly wasn’t a nurse, given his attire, and had a large scar that swallowed the left side of his face. He didn’t hold himself the way a cop would, but the way an ex-con would, adding more credibility to his identity. York looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place him. So many people rotated in and out of his jobs that he hardly paid attention to faces anymore.

 

He gave up on trying to place York’s face with a sigh. Washington took a bite of the sandwich and let out an embarrassing almost moan. He blushed slightly as he remembered there was someone else in the room with him.

 

“Uh, thanks.” Washington gestures with the sandwich. He finishes the rest of the tray within seconds.

 

“Someone’s hungry,” York chuckled as he took the tray back, “but that’s to be expected.”

 

Washington frowned.

 

“I’m pretty sure hunger isn’t a side effect of surgery.”

 

“I’m not talking about the surgery.”

 

Washington watches York’s expression carefully. He knows something Washington doesn’t, that’s spelled out easily over his cocky grin, but what Washington can’t place is the slight hint of pity in York’s eyes. He doesn’t need this stranger’s pity, he’s a mercenary.

 

York sighs and shoves his hands into his hoodie.

 

“There’s no easy way for me to say this, but tonight’s going to be hell. I’m sure you knew it’d be hell from your surgery, but it’s going to get worse. I can’t explain what’s going to happen, it’s different for everyone, but you’re going to change. Your first instinct will be to panic. Don’t.” He says, voice hard.

 

Washington laughs to spite the man. Who was this asshole to come in here and make fun of his injuries? He’d swing a quick punch at him if his whole body didn’t feel like it was in flames.

 

York frowns, irritation spilling across his face at the interruption.

 

“Take that into consideration. I’ll be here in the morning to pick you up” He adds, turning to leave the room. York casted Washington one last smirk over his shoulder. “That is, if you survive.”

 

Washington watched as York strolled out, as if he didn’t just threaten a hospital patient.

 

What did he mean by pick him up tomorrow? There’s no way he’ll be discharged within a _week_ , let alone tomorrow.

 

Absent mindedly, he places a hand on his stitches. He can feel a weird shifting under his fingers. Curious, he unbuttons the hospital gown and notices his wounds have already half-way healed over, skin slowly swallowing the stitches as he watches.

 

_What the hell is going on?_

 

Washington vaguely recognized the nurse that entered the room, quickly moving into action as she noticed his open hospital gown.

 

“Are you in pain? Why didn’t you--”

 

He watched her eyes dart down to the wounds.

 

_Shit._

 

She backed away quickly, eyes glancing everywhere but at him. Washington reached out for her, both in fear and to comfort her.

 

“W-wait! What’s happening?” He called out, but she was already out the door, casting his room back into darkness with a small flick of the switch.

 

Why did all the strange shit have to happen to him? Why did he have to be the Freelancer known for getting grappling hooks stuck to his balls and weird healing abilities instead of the Freelancer known for being badass?

 

The pains searing through his body doubled as he sat up once more, and, for a brief moment, he wholeheartedly believed someone, somehow had set his bones on fire.

 

Washington contemplated pressing the nurse’s button, deciding against it. He’s an ex-marine, he can handle this.

 

The pain bites at him, and he hears the familiar sound of bones cracking. He can feel them moving, rearranging themselves under his muscles.

 

_Here we go again._

Washington thrashes against the pain, hoping that _maybe_ this is all just a bad dream. Another dream about his injuries, but a dream nonetheless. The pain only increases at his movements as it moves up his body, gaining intensity.

 

He stares at his palms, now the center of the pain’s attention, and watches as they begin to shrink and gain...fur?

 

_What the hell?_

 

Washington barely registers that he’s staring at two paws when the pain smacks across his face. He feels his jaw breaking, stretching. Wash holds back a scream, vague memories flooding back to him of that night.

 

He watches his jaw elongate. It almost looks like....

 

_A dog?_

 

Washington halts all his thoughts, pushing the pain away as a growl sounds from somewhere within the room. He partitions off his senses, closing his eyes to block out the unnecessary stimulation as he tries to pinpoint the source.

 

Wash practically screams, falling off the hospital bed unhappily when he realize the growling is coming from his newfound lips.

 

_What the hell is going on?_

 

He shakes himself to recover from the shock of the cold tile beneath him and attempts to stand. His first try has him flopping back onto the floor, successfully gaining control of his competing limbs the second time.

 

_That’s why you were always a top 10 Freelancer, Washington._

 

He shakes his head, trying to get all the memories of today out of his head, when he realizes that he’s eye level with the counter.

 

_I’m 6’2, how am only the same height as the counter? I’m shrinking, that’s it. Shrinking and...apparently a dog._

 

Washington pads around the room slowly, trying to find anything that could reflect his face at him. If he was dreaming, he at least wanted to see the cool shape he’d taken. thanks his lucky stars as he spots a metal toilet. He walked over cautiously, the thought striking him if he really wanted to know how his dreamself looks. Wash shakes the thought from his mind.

 

_If it’s just a dream, there’s no harm in having a small look, is there?_

 

A wolf stares back at him. Not a dog, but a _fucking wolf_. He looks like the same thing that attacked him in the woods and put him in the hospital.

 

_If this was a dream, he could control what was going on, right? He could just...change his shape._

 

Washington blinks a few times, trying to get the animal looking at him to return to his normal, freckled self.

 

It doesn’t.

 

Panic rises in his gut, even if it is just a dream. Of all things his subconscious had to pick, why did it have to choose _this_ monster?

 

He stalks backwards, bumping into the underside of the hospital bed. His back hits one of the bolts hard enough to bleed. Wash’s never felt pain in a dream before, knows it’s _impossible_ to feel pain in a dream, meaning this _isn’t_ a dream.

 

He darts out from under the bed, thrashing around. He slams into the side of the counter, trying to shake the feeling of the fur encompassing him. There’s no _way_ this was happening to him, _no fucking way_. This only happened in fairy tales and fiction, but this was real life.

 

Washington swallows the panic now fully encompassing him as he sees the blood from his back dripping to the floor. He can still feel the sting from his wound. York’s words ring loud in his mind.

 

_Your first instinct will be to panic. Don’t._

 

There’s no way that York could’ve predicted this...this _hallucination_ of his, but takes the offered advice anyway. What’s happening to him is _ridiculous_ , but the advice is still solid. He tries to relax his body, attempting to swallow down his panic and relax.

 

Wash feels himself succumbing to his fear, losing his willpower in the fight to stay calm. He hyperventilates, trying to focus on anything but what was currently happening to him. The monster from the attack is staring at him from the other end of the room, teeth bared but unmoving. The edges of his vision begins encroaching on him, and he feels the tile beneath his stomach once again.

 

_Legs must’ve given out._

  
Washington struggles against the spinning in his head pulling him down, but finds himself overpowered by his body’s urge to shut down. He’s tired of fighting. The world around him slips away into nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> York said he'd pick Washington up in the morning, and he holds to his word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> York only mentions parts of what happens physically and mentally during transition phases. I'll add a full list of side effects if requested. Also, there's comic references in this chapter. See the end of the chapter for information on those characters.

Washington’s eyes flew open, and were immediately engulfed by the bright lights of the room he was in. Fuck, what happened to him? He feels like he got hit by a truck. Wash groaned into his hands when the memories of the previous night finally came back to him.

 

"Good morning, Mr. Washington."

 

He flinched at the sudden disturbance in the silence, finding a grinning red head watching him. Her clipboard trembled slightly in her grasp, the poor thing.

 

"Um, we--we weren't sure that you were going to wake up--" She stammered, lisp seeming to trip her up more.

 

"Can I go home now?" He interrupted weakly after glancing down at his scarred, but now woundless chest, throat burning against the strain of his words. Wash balled a hand into a fist at his lack of manners, but his body was screaming at him, and he couldn't muster up any effort to apologize for his blunder. He ached everywhere.

 

The nurse, Jensen, the name tag read, gave him an awkward smile.

 

"Soon enough, sir. Once Dr. Grey gives you one last look over you'll be able to leave." She answered. "Are you in any pain?"

 

Wash shook his head, lying through his teeth. His body felt like it'd been reamed last night and his throat burned, but he didn't care to divulge that information if it meant he'd have to stay longer. If he was going to suffer this insanity, he at least wanted to do it in the comfort of his own home.

 

Jensen raised an eyebrow at him, and, for a second, Wash thought he'd been seen through. She nodded after a second and left him alone in the room. He let out a breath as he flopped back down into the bed.

 

_That was close._

 

Washington tampered with the television controller set on the side table next to him. He surfed from channel to channel before deciding on just leaving it on the news as background noise while he waited for Dr. Grey.

 

"Last night a seemingly abandoned warehouse went up in flames, taking some of the surrounding forest with it. The cause of the fire is currently unknown, with police looking into the matter. Two people confirmed dead on site as search through the rubble continues. It's suspected that--"

 

Wash clicked the tv off and decided it was better to sit in silence than be reminded of his failed task.

 

Dr. Grey, he assumed, arrived not long after, smiling faintly as she entered. Wash felt bad about the dark rings under her eyes that most certainly had to be from his problems during the night.

 

"Well, Mr. Washington, you're quite a handful, you know that?" She asked playfully, question not matching the tired and slightly bitter tone in her voice.

 

"I've been told that, yes." He replied, trying to match the same lighthearted banter but sounding more put out than anything. He just wanted this to be over, was that to much to ask?

 

"I don't doubt it. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to need you to open that hospital gown for me so I can assess your injuries." Dr. Grey instructed, turning sideways to allow him some slight privacy that he was thankful for. He always felt like he was on display in hospitals, god knows he's in here so often.

 

She returned to his bedside and looked over the scarring on his chest and abdomen, murmuring something under her breath as she ran a hand gently across one of the larger marks. He jumped under the touch.

 

"Does that hurt?"

 

Wash shook his head. As previously with Jensen, she looked skeptical, except she took the extra step to double check his act with a slightly smaller wound. He tried his best not to squirm under the press of her fingers. He’s ticklish, ok?

 

She shook her head and sighed, looking up to meet his eyes. He spoke before she got the chance to.

 

"Do you know what's happening to me?"

 

Dr. Grey stood up straight once more.

 

"I'm going to be honest with you, Mr. Washington. I don't know what's going on with you. I can't, in good faith, let you leave this hospital until I know what is."

 

She held up a hand to silence his attempt to argue with her.

 

"That being said, I'm going to discharge you anyway. You don't seem to be in any physical pain and your injuries have healed miraculously. I just wished I knew what did it. I’d like to see you again in a month for re-assessment." She finished, placing a firm hand on his shoulder and squeezing before leaving the room.

 

A flood of relief washed through him at her words. He was going home.

 

"Mr. Washington, I have some paperwork to sign at the front desk before you leave. There's a spare change of clothes left for you on the chair." Jensen said hesitantly at the door frame and skidded away.

 

Wash stared questioningly at the clothing neatly folded on the chair pointed out. His original clothes would be torn to shreds, so it couldn't be those, but whose are these?

 

He groaned as pulled himself off the hospital bed and brought the pile onto his lap. A small note sat on top.

 

"We need to talk. -Carolina"

 

_Ah, shit._

 

Wash pushed the thought of his impending doom from Carolina off to the side and pulled on the clothes, carrying his hospital garb out with him to the desk Jensen was currently sat at. Wordlessly, she traded the papers for his hospital clothes.

 

He thought briefly about attempting small talk with the nurse, but decided against it. It was just too damn early in the morning. He needed something caffeinated before he tried anything consider "social norm". Wash handed the papers back to her and left. No need to delay his homecoming if he could help it.

 

The elevator ride down gave him time to think about how he was actually going to get home. He didn't have his car, he didn't want to be chewed out by Carolina right now, Church sure as hell wouldn't pick him up, and both Grif and Simmons were at work. He was royally fucked on this one. Sure, Simmons would probably cut out work early for him, but Wash couldn't do that to him, not again.

 

The lobby was dismally empty with barely a person in sight, except for an older man sleeping and a younger man reading a Sports Illustrated magazine.

 

Wait a minute, he knew that face. It was York. Oh that was just fucking rich. There was no fucking way he was spending his morning with him. Wash avoided walking any louder than needed as he made his way quickly to the exit in the most stealthy and unnoticeable way he could manage.

 

"I'm a little hurt by that, Wash." York smirked, looking just over the top of his magazine.

 

_Damn it._

 

"What do you want? Did Carolina send you to pick me up?" He questioned, turning towards him.

 

"I told you I was going to be picking you up last night. I'm not surprised you don't remember." York laughed. "C'mon, let's go get breakfast. There's a cafe not too far from here."

 

"I just get discharged from the hospital for serious wounds and you want me to walk to go get breakfast?" Wash hissed, staring what were hopefully daggers at him.

 

York's smirk widened. "I know you can. C'mon the fresh air will do you some good."

 

Wash hardened his glare at York, hoping to startle him enough to back down. Unfortunately, York was a lot more stubborn than he'd originally pinned him to be. Damn it.

 

"Fine. Guess it can't get any worse anyway." He muttered in defeat, jumping when York's hand came to rest on his shoulder.

 

"That's the spirit!" York hollered as they left the building.

 

That's it, he's going to fucking kill him.

 

Wash embraced the natural light of outside and the smell of the freshly trimmed grass. He just needed to get through breakfast and then it was home free. No more York, no more nonsense.

 

"You know, most people would think it's kind of weird picking up dates from a hospital." Wash ribbed, intending for it to be laced with more malice but blushed when he realized what he'd actually said.

 

York cackled, fully-bellied with his head thrown back, and Washington hated the little flitter in his stomach he got from seeing York's eyes crinkle around the edges from his smile. He hated the part of him that wanted to see York like that again even more.

 

"You're funny, Washington. I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I'm not like most people." He replied.

 

"Most people would say that." Washington responded without hesitation. He cursed himself for the cheesy comeback. Why did York have to give off this air that Washington couldn't resist? His meds must be really screwing with him right now.

 

"Fair point." York remarked with a shrug.

 

They continued on in silence, much to Washington's pleasure. He really wasn't in the mood for sticking his foot back in his mouth.

 

He glanced at the flowers planted alongside the concrete and tried to focus on just walking. Wash squeezed his eyes hard as he tries to ignore the sound of York's footsteps getting louder. Each smack from his shoes beats against his head, soon accompanied by the sound of every cars' engines and a dog's yapping somewhere in the vicinity. It engulfed him, smothering all he could hear. His smell joined the kick-him-while-he's-down party as well, overloading with the smell of grass, flowers, York's cologne, garbage, a present the yapping dog left, and stale gum littered everywhere.

 

This was just fucking great.

 

Wash let out a yelp as his senses threatened to overtake him. Out of the fire and into the frying pan, that was just fucking peachy. York stopped immediately and placed a hand on each shoulder of his.

 

"Wash, can you hear me?" He whispered.

 

At least, Wash _knew_ he whispered, but it _sounded_ like York had screamed in his ear. He nodded curtly.

 

"Focus on my voice, ok? Can you do that?"

 

Wash nodded once again, taking in a sharp breath as he tried to bring York's voice to the forefront of his thoughts. He shoved down the rest of what his senses until it becomes a loud, but background, roar.

 

“Washington, tell me what you hear. Tell me everything, one at a time.”

 

He followed the command. No harm no foul, right? Wash picked apart the sounds coming in, grouping them from most annoying to least annoying.

 

“A bus just pulled up on Main and 10th. There’s a car further up Main that needs its brakes checked. A woman is walking her dog and it’s yapping loudly. I think it’s a...terrier? Uh, there’s a couple walking around the corner as well.” He listed, still keeping his eyes glued shut but feeling his muscles beginning to relax, if only slightly.

 

“Good. Now, I need you to tell me everything you smell. Block out everything you hear but my voice.”

 

He didn’t want to. Everything smelled so damn overwhelming and there was just so much of it. Why didn’t he just say no to York’s offer of breakfast?

 

Wash let the noise around him fade away once more, until all that was flooding his ears was York’s steady heartbeat. He envied how the man could be so calm during all of this. The scents around him seemed to disperse from one big, smelly entity, back into their separate forms. Wash let out a small breath of relief that he could control what was overwhelming him most.

 

“I can smell your Old Spice cologne, York. It’s nice. I can smell the freshly trimmed grass, the two-day old waste from behind the plaza, the roses beginning to bud near the sidewalk. Worst of all, I can smell all the stale gum that’s been thrown around everywhere and the small present that terrier left behind.”

 

York laughed a little at his end remark. It make him feel a little bit better inside.

 

"Wash? How do you feel?"

 

He stammered a little bit, trying to regain his feet in reality. How _did_ he feel? He didn't feel overwhelmed anymore, that's for sure, but everything was different. Like he'd been baptized into a new world.

 

"I'm--I'm ok." Washington finally mustered. What else was he supposed to say? He just gained a super sense of smell and hearing, how are you _supposed_ to react to that? _York, I feel like Peter Parker from the Spider-Man movies and it's kind of freaking me out_? Hell no.

 

Thankfully, York didn't press how he was feeling. They continued on once more, Wash walking a little closer to York than strictly necessary. He smells good, ok?

 

Speaking of smelling good…

 

Wash broke into a huge grin as they turned the corner to the cafe York had mentioned before. The sweet smell of bacon and maple hovered around him and he wanted nothing more than to devour every single last bit of breakfast food they were cooking up. Vaguely, he registered York laughing. He’d be more defensive about his state, but truthfully Wash didn’t care how he looked right now. The smell was just pure bliss.

 

“Come on, Washington. Let’s grab a table.”

 

Within no time they were seated with drinks, coffee for York and water for Wash. He drank half the cup in one go, wondering vaguely where this intense thirst and hunger came from.

 

“I’m sure you’re wondering what’s going on with you by now, no?” York remarked, folding his menu down and pushing it off to the edge of the table.

 

“Yeah, you could say that.”

 

Wash sipped lightly at his water, watching York’s movements carefully.

 

“How are you feeling? Use whatever you can to describe what’s happened so far.”

 

The thought of him being like Spider-Man or Daredevil came racing back to him, but there was no way in hell he was going to be admitting that. He didn’t need to be made fun of this early in the morning when all he wanted to do was go home and sleep.

 

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.” Wash finally supplied.

 

York smirked at him, tapping his fingers on the table as the waitress picked up their menus and orders. Wash watched his fingers dance impatiently. Was York going to react to him at all? Were they just going to sit here in silence? That’d suck balls. He watched the other man chuckle to himself, the bastard.

 

“I can tell you’re lying to me, Wash. Not fully, of course, but a lie by omission is still a lie.” York kept that shit eating grin on his face as he continued to speak, almost sensing what was keeping Washington hesitant. “You know, when I went through my first time, I thought I was Spider-Man. Ran into the wall trying to climb it and everything.”

 

No way, no _fucking_ way. Wash gave him a small smile. “I think it feels more like Daredevil getting his superior senses, minus the losing his sight part.”

 

He could feel heat rising in his cheeks and _dammit_ now was not the time. Why’d he open his damn mouth to talk about his favorite vigilante? Damn it all to hell.

 

“I like the way you think.” York replied with a small chuckle.

 

Washington turned beat red and stared at his lap. Is the universe trying to kill him with all his blushing?

 

“All right, listen Wolfsbane, I’m gonna give you the rundown on what’s happening to you--”

 

The waitress handed out their breakfast plates, much to his relief. Wash pretended he didn’t just get called a werewolf through Marvel comic references in favor of digging into the huge stack of pancakes before him. God, they were just so tasty and savory. The fluffiness of the pancakes was just what he needed right now. He kept stuffing his mouth with one forkful after another, hunger somehow increasing with every new bite.

 

“Whoa, slow down there, you’re gonna give yourself some stomach problems. Like I was saying before we were interrupted, I’m gonna give you the rundown on what’s happening to you. You were bit and you were turned, like a werewolf. Last night was your first transformation. Probably hurt like a bitch.” York said, punctuating each sentence with a small bite of his hash browns.

 

Washington kept eating at his fast pace, despite York’s warning. He was talking nonsense anyway; York wasn’t there last night. York doesn't know.

 

“But your experience last night is only the tip of the iceberg. Each change is dependent on the person changing, but some things are concrete." York began with a serious tone that he just couldn’t take seriously. He was talking about them being werewolves for fuck’s sake.

 

"Like what?" Wash snorted, taking a sip of his water in amusement. York’s face dropped into a threatening scowl, and Wash could swear he heard the beginning of a growl. _Fuck._

 

"Listen to me, Washington. I know you've had some trouble with people pulling wool over your eyes in the past but I need you to trust me now. I'm trying to help." He hissed, hands gripping the edge of the table tightly. Shit. York really _was_ being serious about this.

 

“Sorry. Everything’s just a little...hard to swallow.” Wash choked out, hoping to god that his apology would simmer the other down. After a few beats of silence that felt like an eternity, York nodded his acceptance of Wash's apology and continued on.

 

"Your hunger's going to skyrocket, though I can see you're already going through that phase."

 

Washington dropped the fork he was using to shovel the last of his breakfast with and gave York an incredulous glare.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

“I doubt you eat that fast or that much on a daily basis.” York laughed silently, shaking his head before continuing on. "Your strength and speed will increase, as will your pain tolerance and healing."

 

“Is that it? Doesn’t sound too bad.” Wash remarked, licking his lips clean.

 

"Your sex drive's getting revved up, too. It's always better to have someone help you out through that time." York smirked, and _damn was that a wink_? Wash blushed scarlet and went back to staring at his empty plate. This was nonsense. All of this was nonsense.

 

York let out a soft sigh. "Things are going to get rough, Wash, I won't lie, but I know you can handle it. I’ll pick up the tab, since I know you don’t have your wallet on you."

 

He smiled, ears now turning pink. What's up with all his blushing today? Maybe it was just his recovery, but York's change in tone almost made him believe what he was saying. Almost. York threw the total on the table plus the tip and stood, motioning for Washington to follow him.

 

"I better get you home before Carolina chews me out for 'impeding your recovery'." He explained, holding the door for Wash to step through.

 

Wash nodded, knowing well the hellfire Carolina could unleash when it came to his health. He and her were closer than siblings, and Carolina gets instinctively defensive over the people closest to her.

 

He breathed in the fresh air of the outdoors once more, this time partitioning each scent off to only focus on one. He picked the fresh cut grass, resisting the tempting smell of Old Spice.

 

Wash reflected on everything he's gain from this. New strength? Always handy for a Freelancer. He'd always been the quickest learner of their group; it was one of the many skills that made him a top mercenary. And now that he's getting these newfound advantages, there's nothing stopping him from becoming the cream of the crop. Maybe he could even overpower Texas. Like that'd ever happen.

 

York twirled the keys around in his hand as they approached the car, drumming his free hand across the door as he slid in. Wash climbed in after him, cursing as the seat belt locked up before clicking into place. He loathed how York laughed at his mistake. No, not his mistake, it was the stupid seat belt's fault.

 

"All right, Wash, direct me to your house. I barely know my way around this area of town." York remarked as the exited the parking lot of the hospital.

 

"Take Sahara up until you hit Charleston." He replied absently, twiddling his fingers in his lap. Wash's exhaustion was hitting him like a freight train after that satiating meal, and it was an effort to keep upright.

 

"You know what, forget what I said. I'll call Carolina and ask for directions. So just...pass out in the passenger seat. You look like hell." York said, concealed concern laced in his words.

 

Wash nodded his thanks and closed his eyes, praying sleep took him quickly so he wouldn't have to hear Carolina's insistent questions on how he was doing until tomorrow. Thankfully whatever power above granted his wish and he out like a light, being shaken awake after what felt like only a few seconds of sleep.

 

"You don't look as wrecked as you did earlier." York remarked bluntly.

 

Wash gave him a weak smile and left the car, letting his feet push him towards his front door until his mind finally clicked on again. He spun around to face the car once more, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought about what he wanted to say. How did he ask this without sounding so flustered?

 

"Hey York, will I--uh, see you again, soon? I mean, you obviously understand what's happening to me, so maybe you could help me through it?" Wash stammered out.

 

Oh, god, that was even worse than he'd wanted it to sound. Now York's going to think he was hitting on him when he wasn't. He just wanted to have someone that wasn't Carolina understand him for once. York smirked at him but didn't remark on how middle-schooler Wash had made his request sound.

 

"I have a feeling we'll be meeting again soon, Wash." And with that he drove off, leaving Washington to wonder what the hell just happened on his front doorstep. He pushed the thoughts aside in favor of winding down for the rest of the day.

 

Or maybe the rest of the week.

 

He didn't really care either way, all he knew was that he was exhausted, he never remembered his bedroom sheets feeling so nice, and that York was bonkers. Still, that little nagging bit of his brain told him that York was right, even if he didn't want to believe that such science fiction could become a reality.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wolfsbane: A 16 y/o mutant that was experimented on and eventually became a full-out werewolf. She's a member of X-Factor during Polaris' run as leader.
> 
> Daredevil: A Marvel vigilante that's completely blind, fights well, and has heightened senses. Real name: Matt Murdock
> 
> Spider-man: A Marvel vigilante that was bitten by a radioactive spider and was granted the abilities of a spider, hence the name. He has incredibly bad luck. Real name: Peter Parker


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash sort of succumbs to the fact that he's a werewolf by going to the gym with Carolina.

Wash rolled around in his sheets, blinking wearily as his eyes adjust to his post-sleepiness.

There's no _way_ the events of last night happened. He was just hallucinating from the pain meds they administered, or had another nightmare. Yeah, and maybe everything with York was a dream too. He'd wake up and have a nice laugh with Carolina about this. She'd tell him to lay off the Syfy channel before bed, even though he hasn't touched that channel since the nightmares began. That'd be the end of that, and everything would be ok.

_Yeah, 'cause everything always works out for him._

Wash rubbed his eyes hard enough to see little stars. He needed to call Carolina. She could help him with this, plus he knew for a fact she was just getting off-duty right now. He didn't particularly feel like getting called an idiot for taking a job with Texas again, but he had to talk to her. Maybe he could play the injury card to avoid talking about his botched job. That could work.

He plucked his phone from its place on the dock and dialed the numbers before he could talk himself out of it. Carolina picked up before the first ring even sounded off, which was only _slightly_ worrying.

"Wash! Are you ok? York told me you didn't look so hot on your way home." Carolina preened.

He forgot he'd have to answer all her prodding questions about his injuries first. Crap.

"I'm fine, Caro, just wiped is all." Wash replied, shifting the phone in hand.

"If you say so, Wash. Why'd you call?"

"I need to talk to you. Preferably while we're beating on some punching bags." Wash laughed out bitterly.

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean, you _just_ got out of the hospital this morning."

He hit the phone against his cheek lightly, wishing she’d just stop worrying about him for once. Then again, she wouldn’t really be Carolina if she did.

"I'm fine, Carolina. Really. A spar session would really help me start feeling...normal, again." Wash sighed. If there was one thing Carolina had a weakness for, it was making him feel ok. He felt kind of dirty playing that card against her, but he didn’t really have a choice.

"I'll be there in 10." Carolina sighed in defeat. Wash normally admired Caro for her ability to never give up on a fight, but for once, he was glad she backed down. He'd get to spar with her, they'd talk, sort things out, and his life would go back to the way it was.

Even as he thought the words, he knew they were lies. Wash could _feel_ his body changing and adapting to his second form.

He pulled himself from the overbearing comforts of his bed sheets and started packing his fighting gear. He had ten minutes alone to himself before Carolina showed up. Wash let out a small sigh and rolled the memories of last night in his head, mixing them with York’s words from this morning.

A werewolf.

He hated to admit that the idea of shapeshifting and making science fiction reality made him curious. Curious enough to do a quick Google search, he supposed. Wash dropped the duffle and flopped down onto the mattress, propping his laptop up on his lap.

_10,200,000 results in .42 seconds._

Most of the links were sci-fi junky fan speculation and websites dedicated to “conspiracy theories”. He felt a little bit of relief that nothing useful was actually turning up. Maybe this was just a big prank on him after all. The last blue link at the bottom of the page is a news article about military advancements. Wash clicks it before he finishes reading the title.

_The recently elected Director of Project Freelancer, Dr. Leonard L. Church Sr., has announced new breakthrough technology that could possibly change the game of how the United States deals with threats of domestic terrorism._

__

_“My expert scientists have discovered enhancements for the human genetic sequence that could lead to a breakthrough in unlocking the potential hidden away within humans. If we must fight fire with fire, you can be sure our fire will burn longer. The genetic sequencing within humans is parallel to that of ape species, which is where our inherent research was gathered from. Our recent success with transforming these primitive life forms into top 0.1% of its species has lead us to believe that we can unlock the final parts of the human mind that remain locked away and keep us from reaching the full potential held within us.”_

__

_Dr. Leonard Church’s new military experiments will have to be shelved with his recent election to President of the ongoing Project Freelancer. Project Freelancer has been an ongoing branch of military operation that has been running since its founding in World War II. All that’s known about the inner workings of the project is what’s said by the former agents, which can be found here within our archives._

__

_Sounds to us like they’re trying to make Captain America come to life. Maybe next they’ll make other fantasies a reality. Werewolves, anyone?_

Wash scowled at the end of the article. He didn’t want to be reminded of the project or of Dr. Church. He’d spent too many years blindly faithful to such a sketchy program that it wasn’t worth his time to think back on them. _It wasn’t worth it._

Carolina arrived in exactly ten minutes, as Washington expected, with her training bag slung over her shoulders and headphones resting around her neck.

“Let’s go, cockbite.” She smiled, taking the duffel bag from Wash’s hands and stepping aside to let him out. He missed this. They hadn’t had a spar in months, not since Carolina got her new job that makes her work hours odd coupled with the fact that she was in the process of moving into the same plaza as South and Connie, meant Wash rarely ever got to see her. It was nice to have her back.

“It’s been awhile, Carolina. How’s the new job?” Wash asked, sliding into the passenger seat. He cringed as she threw their duffels into the back carelessly.

“Private security isn't all it’s cracked up to be. It’s boring, mostly, but it pays well, so I’m not complaining. What about you? How’s the sanctuary been holding up?” Carolina replied easily enough, starting up her big ass track and pulling her out of the driveway.

“Why do always insist on driving this behemoth? This _can’t_ be good for the environment.” Wash squawked.

“Payed good money for it, Wash. You think I’d let this beauty sit in the garage all day?” Carolina smirked at him briefly before returning her eyes to the road.

He sighed, choosing rather to stare out the passenger window than to continue this long standing argument over Carolina’s choice vehicle that always smelled like those new car air fresheners. Today, being in her car, felt different, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. Everything certainly smelled different, like Carolina had a pine tree in her backseat and somehow adopted a dog.

But that wasn’t possible because of her allergies, so why did it smell so much like dog in the car? Was it possible that she too was...no, no no no no no. Werewolves don’t exist. This was all just misidentification. Plenty of things could make that smell.

“Wash, are you sure you’re ok? You’ve been staring blankly at the parking lot since I parked.” Carolina asked.

No, he was fine. He was just... _peachy_.

“I’m fine, Carolina. Let’s just get going.” Wash replied, shaking his the previous thoughts from his mind. She tossed his duffle bag at him when they got to the main entrance. He fished out his gym ID from the outer pocket and handed it to the man at the desk.

"Hey, Wash. Carolina, looking fine as ever. Since you're here maybe I could give your body a work out. Bow chicka bow wow." The desk clerk purred with a wink.

Carolina gave him a scathing glare. "Are you ever going to let up on those cheesy pick-up lines, Tucker?"

"Not until they work."

Wash pulled her towards the punching bags before she could say anything to Tucker. He _really_ didn't feel like being kicked out again because of Carolina's sharp tongue about Tucker's open relationship with his wife, or his cheesy pick-up lines. Frankly, all he wanted to do was beat the living shit out of a punching bag. He pulled out the gauze and threw his duffle in a corner. Carolina followed suit.

"You sure you should be doing such a high intensity workout after what happened? Doesn't that go against doctor's orders?" Carolina teased as she wrapped her hands and began warming up.

Wash got down into push-up position. "The doctor didn't even know what to do with me. Didn't really give me orders beyond 'come in for a check-up'." He started doing regular reps, finding them as easy as walking.

_Right, new strength._

__

He removed one hand, firmly planting it on his back as he went. Carolina watched him with an eyebrow raised. Normally, he wouldn’t bother with any one-handers so early in their workouts.

“Eager, are we? Tell me, how is it you come fresh from the hospital ready to do one-handed push-ups?” Carolina remarked smugly, getting on the ground in front of him to join in.

Wash completed his first rep of thirty easily, wishing he could have more resistance to work his muscles better. If only…

“Hey, Caro, willing to do me a favor?”

She stopped her reps, holding a plank position as she contemplated his question. “You’re not gonna ask me to help you clean out your garage again, are you? David, I love you, but you have a _serious_ hoarding problem.”

Wash rolled his eyes. “No. I’d rather not go through another full day of you complaining every five seconds about my high school memorabilia boxes.” He griped. “I was going to ask you to…”

No. No no no no. There was no _way_ he could go through with this. Just _thinking_ the idea sounded stupid.

“Spit it out, Washington.”

He bit the inside of his cheek. Here goes nothing.

“I want you to sit on my back. While I do push-ups. I--this--I need more resistance.” Wash admitted sheepishly.

Carolina flopped out of her plank position and gazed at him wide eyed.

“What did you just say?”

He knew this was dumb. He shouldn’t have asked. “Look it’s stupid, I know. I shouldn’t have asked that of you.” Washington stammered, feeling himself flush. Curse his pale complexion.

“David, it’s fine. I’m just...stunned. Usually you tap out after your first rep of the one-handers, but here you are already completing thirty.” She assured him, crawling across the floor to straddle his back. “Are you sure about this?”

Wash replied by starting his reps again, finally satisfied with the way his muscles were being worked. God, it felt so good to be back in action again, to feel his muscles straining and pulling as he pushed his limits. Carolina counted the sets he did out loud until he hit fifty. She got off his back, much to his displeasure. He was just finally getting that soreness in his arms that he so badly missed.

“When’d you learn to do that?” Carolina asked, awe laced in her words. This is the first time in...ever that he’s done something to make her this impressed. It felt nice.

Wash shrugged. “Guess you could say it’s a new me.”

He cringed internally at his own choice of words. He wasn’t a werewolf no matter what lined up with York’s warnings, dammit! Werewolves were fiction. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, eyes unrelenting until eventually letting up on the scrutiny. He hated when she did that. It always felt like she was peering into his soul.

“I guess so.” Carolina remarked, turning her back to him as she got in position to start beating on the punching bag.

She could be so cryptic sometimes. Wash pushed himself off the floor and took the one next to her. He started out with a few swift punches working up to the pounding he was eager for.

_Oh lord._

Wash grimaced at his phrasing. Donut must be rubbing off on him. He gave the bag a left hook, revelling in the familiar sting on his knuckles. He kept up with the punches, eventually stepping back to switch over to some kicks, even sprinkling in some round-houses.

“Hey, David! Watch this,” Carolina called. She took a few steps back and ran at the bag full force, round-house kicking it so hard it broke off its chain and smacked into the back wall. _Hard_. Wash wouldn’t admit it, but he may have let out a small whimper in fear for his life.

“Remind me never to piss you off.” He remarked with a weak smile.

Carolina just smirked at him. “That? That was nothing. With our power, we can send that sucker through the wall.”

Wash turned to look at her. _Really_ look at her. He’d known this whole time that something was different with Carolina, but now that she was speaking like this, it just reminded him a little _too_ much of York’s words. _Enhanced strength_.

Carolina rolled her eyes at him. “You don’t have to hide it from me, Wash. I could smell the wolf on you the second you opened the door.”

No. _Hell_ no. Not Carolina too. It was fine when it was just some random, handsome stranger pulling his leg, but _Carolina_? Wash furrowed his brow in anger. He’d had enough of this. “If this is some sick game or some sort of twisted joke between the two of you, it’s not funny, so cut it out.”

Carolina looked stunned at the accusation, and he had to admit it did sound kind of like a stretch. Carolina did like to pull pranks, but nothing of _this_ magnitude. Still, his anger was pushing him past the brink of rational thought. Her stun broke into a look crossed of both pity and understanding. He hated it.

“Sit down, David. You look like you’re about to explode.” Carolina motioned, handing him his water bottle once he was seated. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Wash took the water bottle from her gratefully, taking a long swig from it. He waited for his anger to subside so he could actually _think_ clearly and repeat the events of last night up until this morning. “I was on a mission with Tex last night and I was caught. Got torn to shreds by some sort of wolf or dog. Woke up that night in the hospital. Doctor told me I was barely alive. I... _shifted_...that night and freaked out. Woke up to a guy named York, went out to breakfast, and here I am.”

The words poured out of his mouth faster than he could process them. He felt better unloading everything onto someone else. Carolina stiffened beside him, hiding whatever her reaction was to the story. Great. She was going to tell him to go back to the Mother of Invention Hospital and have him locked up like...like…

Wash shook his head hard, trying to get the thoughts of the MoI out of his head. That was a long time ago. Carolina took in a deep breath before responding. “You're not crazy, Wash. I thought I was losing touch with reality during my first transition. Didn’t really know how to explain what I’d called a “dream” for the longest time.”

Wash stared at the floor, pointedly avoiding Carolina. He didn’t know what to say; how to process what she’d said. Half of him was screaming not to trust her, that this was all a joke, but the rest of him...the rest of him was too tired to fight back and just wanted to trust her. What was he to do?

“You’re one too?” Wash asked weakly.

“I am.”

He nodded slowly, finally turning his gaze back to her. Carolina stared back at him, soft eyes and smile waiting for him to adjust to all she’d said. It reminded him of when they were in elementary school and Wash would cry to her about the kids that pushed him around. They sat together in silence on the floor until Carolina’s phone rang and she excused herself, quickly getting into a heated argument with whomever was on the other end of the line. Wash watched her pace back and forth, eventually ending the call sharply.

“Sorry to cut our workout so short, but work just called. They need me in.” She told him curtly, packing her stuff back into her duffel and leaving the gym.

Wash packed his stuff as quickly as he could, running out to catch Carolina before she could drive off without him. As great as it felt to talk and see the softer side of Carolina, it felt even better to have the regular Lina back. She dropped him off at his home and drove off quickly, leaving him alone in his driveway to, once again, wonder what the fuck just happened. His stomach rumbled, thankfully cutting that train of thought short to “what’s for lunch?”

Everything in the fridge looked so tempting. He picked up the plate of leftover wings and cleaned the meat off the bones in seconds. Wings had never tasted so good in his _life_ , and his stomach was begging for more. He cleared the fridge, shelf by shelf, each item tasting more and more like heaven and filling him up less and less. Wash stared at the empty fridge and messy hands before him. Seriously, what was happening to him?

York’s words trickled into the back of his mind: _your hunger’s gonna skyrocket._

Wash’s stomach blanched at the words. He could feel the food he’d devoured coming back up and ran straight for the bathroom, vomiting up everything from his last grocery run. Once the bile had come to a stop, he flushed the toilet and sank down onto the tile floor in defeat. The day couldn’t get any worse than this. His stomach rumbled again in a mix of hunger and pain, and he dry heaved into the toilet once more.

Maybe he’d spoke too soon.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington gets some surprise visitors. Time jump between the last chapter and this is 3 weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points if you can figure out what Wash's actual job is besides doing side things with Tex!!

Weeks. It’s been _weeks_ since he’s left his house. Wash can barely _move_. Every time he does, his stomach churns and expels whatever’s in it. Most of the time, it’s a really bitter bile that he’s gotten used to the taste of by now, since there isn’t a lot of food in his stomach anymore. He’d had to call into work every single day to tell them that he was sick, sometimes even retching while on the phone, and he was running out of vacation days. What was he gonna _do_?

Wash flinched at the sound of the doorbell ringing. God what was setting him so on edge?

He stumbled to the door, throwing it open without really looking at who was on the other side. The person was probably just going door to door selling anyway.

“I’m not interested.” Wash deadpanned, closing the door quickly and jumping back when a hand stopped it from closing fully.

“Hello to you too.”

He scrubbed his eyes, forcing them to focus on the two forms in front of him. One had a purple button up and black slacks with light blonde hair scooped back perfectly, and the other was...York? What the fuck?

The two men entered his house, closing and locking the door behind them. York grinned at him and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“You look like shit.”

Wash dropped into a scowl. Of course he did.

“I feel like it.” He responded blandly, feeling his stomach lurching again.

“That's the morning sickness.” The second man spoke. Wash gave him a questioning glance. “Ah, right. My name’s Elliot. Call me North.”

He shook North’s outstretched hand, still weary. What the fuck was going on?

“York’s told me about you. Said your voice gets squeaky sometimes.”

“That's not true!” Wash squawked, eliciting a snicker from York. He narrowed his eyes at the intruders to his home. “What are you two doing here, anyway?”

“Just checking up. Told you I'd see you again, didn't I?” York chimed, draping himself over Washington’s couch dramatically. The fucker.

Wash blushed when York gave him a cocky grin. He turned away, looking at North once more. “And you too?”

North nodded. “It's customary for pack leaders to meet new members.”

Wash blinked at him blankly. He was too sick to have to deal with this shit right now. He nodded at North anyway. “Right.”

“How much has York told you so far?”

“The basics.”

North gave him a pleased smile. “Good to see York is finally pulling his weight.”

York threw one of Wash’s couch cushions at him. “Fuck you, dude.”

“Seriously, do you think you could do this some other time?” Wash whined, grabbing the bucket he’d set on the counter and vomiting whatever remnants was left in his stomach. He’s convinced by now that he’s _actually_ throwing up his stomach.

York wrinkled his nose at the stench. “Gross. Morning sickness is the worst.”

North rubbed Wash’s back cautiously. He leaned into the touch, something about North was just really soothing. The devil. He'd only just met the man and he was leaning into his fingers. Fuck.

“Hey, do either of you want something to drink? Eat?” Wash asked, grasping at anything so he wouldn't have to think about...whatever was happening.

North’s hand stopped moving. “Water for me.” York chimed.

Washington nodded, making his way to the fridge and remembering just in time that'd he'd devoured the last of the groceries Simmons had dropped off for the week earlier that day. Fucking perfect.

“I, uh. I don't have anything. In the fridge.” He stammered out, fighting the urge to slam his head into the fridge door and vomit his guts at the same time. York cackled from his spot on the couch. Jackass. North gave him a sympathetic look.

“You'll adjust soon enough. The pain and morning sickness shouldn't last much longer.” North remarked. “If it makes you feel better, York went through the same problem. He was so out of it he thought offering me ‘seconds’ was funny. Also didn’t seem to mind opening the door naked either.”

Wash heard a growl come from the other room, only registering it as York when he appeared fast as light in front of North, fangs bared and good eye blazing yellow. “You promised you wouldn't tell that story again.”

North just chuckled, putting a hand on York’s shoulder. “I said I wouldn't tell it people outside the pack, and it's already calmed the rookie down.” He motioned to Wash. “Would you prefer I told the sexcapade story instead?”

York’s fangs retracted instantly, a flicker of fear passing over his face instead of the anger that was there before. “You’re bluffing.”

North gave him an innocent smile but didn't reply. Washington watched the silent confrontation taking place in front of him. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't slightly--slightly--terrified. Were these guys actually going to deck it out in his kitchen? He hoped not. He's not sure how he'd explain that to his landlord.

York eventually cowered, moving to stand next to Wash. Apparently North had won.

“North’s going to explain the pack dynamic and rules to you. He's also going to go over the boring stuff I already told you the other day.” York huffed out.

“That was two weeks ago.”

“Same difference.”

Wash snorted.

“Let's go over pack dynamics. First off, most wolves get to choose what pack they'd like to join, but you don't really have much of a choice at this point in time. You're stuck with us for now. Second, most packs live together. You obviously don't have to if you don't want to, but it usually helps to have people that understand what you're going through to be around. And third, packs can usually feel each other's emotions.”

“What, like a sixth sense?”

“Precisely. It's not all the time, but strong emotions filter through. Like a gut feeling.”

“I'm sure York has shared with you the basics of what happens when your body adjusts to shifting, but he only skimmed the surface of what happens. First adjustment after your first shift is appetite and morning sickness. Your appetite will have increased due to increased calorie burning that comes with shifting. The morning sickness is your body responding to the increased demand. It'll settle down after a few weeks from your first shift, so it seems you'll be free from that soon.”

“Thank god.” Wash breathed a sigh of relief. There was no way he could’ve handled in that pain any longer.

North pushed on. “Your strength, dexterity, stamina, and healing ability have all increased substantially. Happens with cross-genetic transference.”

“Cross _what_?”

“Cross-genetic transference. Delta told me all about it.”

Washington decided to brush off the new name he didn’t recognize. Too much to process at one time. “York said something about my sex drive going up too.”

“Well he was...sort of...right. The first heat is always the worst, but you learn to manage it.”

“Heat? Like, mating season for animals and going into a rut, heat?” He stammered.

“Yes.” North remarked, a solid poker face covering any emotions. He supposed that may have consoled others, but it was hard to accept it with York’s new wave of cackling.

“How do you know all this?” Wash queried.

“It's not important right now.”

Oh. Ok. It’s not important. It’s _never_ important to tell Washington anything that’s going on. Let’s just keep him in the dark for the rest of his life. How funny. He huffed bitterly, biting his tongue back on what he really wanted to say.

York spoke up from beside him. “Since you're part of our pack, we’ll teach you how to harness the new abilities that come with this--enhancement. Both in wolf form and human.”

“Training starts Monday in the Pride Woods at 6am exactly.” North added.

Wash groaned. He has work to work that morning and he’s already used all his vacation days. _And_ he’s got story time at 10! “Do I have to?”

“You don't really have a choice, do you?”

“I suppose not.” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. Man did he really wish he had anything in the fridge that he could sip on solemnly like in the movies. He could’ve really used one now. “I have to be at work tomorrow by 9:50. Can we be done by then?”

North nodded. “Yes, I think that will work. We can’t do much during the first session anyway.”

Wash gave him a small smile in thanks. York shuffled around from beside him, standing next to North. “Well, his was fun and all, but we really can’t stay much longer. See you tomorrow at training.” He gave him a small wave and left.

North watched York pile into the car before turning his attention back to Washington, a softness seeping into his gaze. “I know this is probably terrifying for you, Wash, but it _will_ get better. That’s what we’re here for.”

Wash nodded and North placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re going to try to reach out to your friends to talk, and I know you already have. I can smell Carolina on your dirty laundry from here--”

He blanched at Carolina’s name tossed like that. The senses were all too-new to him still, and while it’s true his workout clothes still smelled like Caro, he’s not used to having others possessing the same heightened abilities as himself.

“But you have to be careful about who you allow into your space and who you talk to about what’s going on. Not everyone has your best interest in mind.” North remarked, placing his hands in his pockets. “York and I better get going. Let you process what’s going on. Take care, Wash, and get some sleep. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

  
Washington watched the door close behind North. Seriously, what the fuck is going on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guessed that Washington was a children's librarian, you were correct!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington tries to come to grips with everything that's happened to him, again. Instead of dealing with the problem, he tries to run away by spending time with his family. See how well that goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the great Monthly Church Family Bonding™.
> 
> Update: There's two notes at the end of this chapter and I'm unsure why that is. The first one is the correct one. I apologize for that.

Washington didn’t know what he was supposed to do with the information just dropped on him. First, the stranger he’d met a few weeks ago shows up out of the blue with some random guy; then they tell him all about their “pack” and how it operates, finishing it off with the icing on the fucking cake by leaving him to wonder what just happened and why he agreed to start training at 6am the day he went back to work.

Oh, and he was still vomiting his guts out. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Wash groaned, leaning against his kitchen counter for support. What was he going to do? He wasn’t supposed to be talking to anyone outside of his pack. But what did they know? Carolina’s been there since the beginning. Hell, even _Church_  has always been there for him. He wasn’t going to turn his back on them because two jackasses said so. Was he?

No. Yes? No. Maybe it was a better idea to just take his mind off things. Yeah, that was it. He was going to call Carolina and Church up and remind them about their monthly shooting trip, and he wasn’t going to say a word about what happened or what’s happening to him.

Right, like that’d work. He’d be carrying his trusty bucket with him the entire time there, as if _that_ wouldn’t raise any questions. It was futile. He’d _have_  to talk to them about what was happening. After all, Carolina already knew he was a wolf, how bad could some consolation be?

Wash dialed up the number to Carolina’s cell. Straight to voicemail, as usual when she’s on call. Hopefully she’ll get his message before it’s too late. He left his memo and hung up, dialing Church just as fast. If he thought about what was happening to his body and the churning in his stomach, he was _sure_  he was going to explode.

Church picked up after three rings. “It’s about time you called, asshole.”

Wash smiled at the familiar bitterness of Leonard on the other line. It was good to have something feel normal after these past few weeks. “Been kind of busy, Church. Story time isn’t all fun and games, you know.”

Church scoffed. “Yeah fucking right. Reading kids books and singing songs isn’t easy my ass.”

“Says the barista.”

He chuckled at the string of cuss words from the other side of the line. Hearing Church react so-- well, _Church_  --felt good, like he’d been missing this. Hell, he _did_  miss this. He only got to see his brother once a month due to his school load.

“Are we still on for today?” Church asked bitterly.

“As far as I know. Lina hasn’t canceled on us, but she isn’t answering her phone at the moment. Job stuff, I guess.” Wash bristled at the huff from the other line. He could practically _hear_  Church’s eye roll.

“I'll swing by your place in half an hour. Be ready.” He finished, closing the call and tossing his phone onto the counter. At least he had something to look forward to one this horrible day, because he’d agreed to a training session with someone he'd only spent a few hours with at most _and_ was still going through morning sickness. His whole body was overwhelmed with that spider-webbing feeling of ick and his insides were still churning.

He needed a nice warm shower to soothe himself. Yeah, that'd be nice. Some unwinding time alone to not think about anything except existential thoughts is what he needed.

Wash stumbled along to his bathroom, turning the water on and stripping down while he waited for it to warm up. He tested the temperature with his arm, eventually deciding to just get in. The spray felt so nice against his aching muscles and scratchy throat. He’d taken to showering up to four times a day just from how good it felt to be clean after all of his morning sickness. Hopefully this would be the last shower he took to shake off the feeling of vomit. Wash spent the time not washing himself and his hair pushed up against the wall. He gently ran his hands over the scars marking his chest. They were a horrible reminder of his situation. An unwelcome, unsightly reminder, as well.

Wash stepped out of the comforting steam of the shower and quickly shimmied into his boxers and jeans. He threw on an old grey henley haphazardly and double checked how much time he had before he needed to pick up the lazy fucker that never bothered to get his driver’s license. Why couldn’t Church just suck it up and take the test? It’d only be an hour of his life used up and it’d say everyone else from having to drive him everywhere like a chauffeur.

His phone buzzed with a new message from Carolina.

_Running late. Meet you there._

__

He sighed. Church wasn’t going to be happy that Lina was getting caught up in work stuff. Again.

Wash shoved his phone in his pocket and grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter. He wasn’t really keen on leaving the house ten minutes early, but he didn’t have anything else to do. His house smelt overwhelmingly like vomit and he’d have to leave anyway. Why not just spend a few extra minutes with his brother?

Church was less than enthusiastic when Wash pulled up to his apartment complex, as per usual. He hopped into the passenger seat and quickly unplugged Wash’s phone from the aux cord and replaced it with his own. Why did he always have to do this?

“How long have you been a wolf boy, Wash?”

Wash slammed on the brakes, halting well before he’d have to for the red light, and tightened his knuckles around the steering wheel. He didn’t want to talk about this. He’d wanted to avoid this, and now Church had brought it up. What was he going to do?

“Hey, chill out. It was just a question.” Church mumbled, in that painstakingly Church way where he tried to sound like he didn’t care but missed by a mile. Shit, he’d really have to talk about this.

Washington let out a sigh. “It’s been about three weeks.”

“How is--uh, how is it?”

Wash shrugged. “It’s hell.”

Church kicked the bucket on the passenger side floor in silent recognition of the “hell” Wash’d been talking about, but said nothing more. Leonard had never particularly been that good at any form of small talk or talk about feelings and life, which was a great breeding ground for awkward conversations like this. He watched as Church fiddled with his phone, bouncing from different Indie song to different Indie song. Not that Wash could really tell; all of Church’s music sounded the same to him. His brother finally settled on a slow, sad song that really punctuated the silence between them. Wash frowned at the song selection. This was supposed to be a fun family trip, and a fun family trip was what he was going to get, dammit!

He snatched the cord from Church’s phone just before the light turned green and sat back with a satisfied smirk when the signature rhythm of Fall Out Boy filtered over the stereo.

“Wow, asshole. What was that about?” Church griped, crossing his arms in frustration. Wash already felt better. It was always funny watching Church get upset. What’s funnier than a 5’5 ball of rage?

“Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.” Wash smirked.

“You watch _way_  too much Supernatural.” Church scoffed.

Wash only chuckled as the light turned green. Truthfully, he’s only seen the first season of the series, back when Epsilon was still around, but who could blame him for using such a reference? The line was memorable and the opportunity presented itself.

Church shuffled around in the seat beside him. “Where’s Carolina and her beast of a car? She’s usually the one that’s most eager for these monthly trips.”

He shrugged. “Said she’d meet us there. Job’s holding her up.”

Church scowled. “I don’t like her working for the Staff of Charon.”

Washington let out a stunted laugh. “That’s what you said about her working for the Mother of Invention.”

“I know. I’m just--”

“--worried about her?” Wash finished. He has the thoughts many times himself. Church nodded.

“She keeps taking these shady jobs for shady people. I’ve already been through enough of that shit with Tex.”

“She’s a grown woman, Church. Carolina can handle herself.”

“Tex said the same thing to me.” Church laughed bitterly and said no more. They sat in silence together, watching the buildings pass by and tension sitting thick in the air. His brother always got this way whenever Tex was brought up, so Wash decided it was time for drastic measures. It was time to put on Church’s weakness, his Achilles heel, his dirty pleasure of a song. He smirked as the signature intro beats to One Direction’s _Perfect_  filled the car, cutting through the thick silence between them. Church glared at him, gaze filled to the brim with venom and malice that made Wash snicker under his breath. Church would never admit in his life that he liked this song, but Washington knew better. He’d caught him dancing in his room to the song plenty of times before, and Church _was_  his brother. It wasn’t that hard to figure out what he liked.

Wash returned his gaze back to the road. He could see Church mouth the words in his peripheral vision and move imperceptibly in a way that could almost be considered dancing. Washington smiled to himself as he pulled into the parking lot of the Red Army Shooting Range, choosing the stall closest to the building. Carolina was leaned up against the front door busily tapping away at her phone.

Church hopped out of the car with a muttered “why do you always drag me here?” and Wash followed suit, pulling out the ammo rounds he’d stored in the back seat before locking up the car. Carolina smiled at them as they came closer, shoving her phone into her pocket and folding her arms.

“It’s about time you two showed up.” She smirked, hitting Church playfully in the shoulder. Wash held the door for his siblings and waved to the gun range owner, Sarge. He really liked the man, even if he always talked about his war experience and never gave out his actual name. Sarge was a unique person that Wash could listen to talk all day.

  
  
"Why does he keep calling me a 'dirty blue' every time we come here?" Church scoffed next to him.

  
  
Washington shrugged. "Maybe it's because every time we come here you were the same stupid shirt."

  
  
Church punched him in the shoulder. "I do not!"  
  


He laughed when he caught Church looking down at his shirt with a frown. Church flipped him off. God, he really _really_ missed this time together. Why did his family have to drift so far apart from each other?  
  


Carolina interrupted whatever train of thought he was having by announcing that their range time began now. Wash unclipped his handgun and loaded a mag in it, quickly unloading every bullet into the center target easily. He'd had to practice a lot in order to keep up with Tex's standards for her missions, so keeping everything inside a tiny circle was simple enough.  
  


"Looks like someone's improved since the last time we've been here." Carolina chimed in from behind him, arms crossed and one eyebrow raised. Wash smirked.  
  


"It's good stress relief." He replied, glancing over at Carolina range to see her target. The bullet holes made an intricate pattern following the center circle, each hole spaced out evenly and balanced perfectly on the line. It was pretty impressive, if he did say so himself.  
  


Church called out a string of cuss words from the range to his right, as per their usual. Every time they came out to the range they expected at least _some_  type of progress, but it always seemed like he was getting worse aim. He and Carolina exchanged a glance before walking up to Church to see how many bullet holes ended up outside the target.  
  


Turns out none of his bullets hit the target at all, instead chipping the wall behind it. Carolina chortled at his failure. Wash snickered in amusement. He felt bad for Church, sure, but it _was_  kind of funny to see how badly he'd fucked up his aim. Church banged his his fist on the counter in front of him.  
  


"Must be the sights on this damn thing." He muttered, lining up his shot once more. They watched his bullet whizz off the wall and bounce into the bare corner of the paper.  
  


"Ha! I hit it!" Church hollered.  
  


"Doesn't count if you don't call it." Wash shrugged, purposefully pushing his brother's buttons.  
  


"Oh bullshit dude. Bull-fucking-shit." Church shouted at him. Wash chuckled to himself. He loved watching Church get all red from anger when he gets all riled up when he can't hit a target. It reminds him of when they were kids and went out shooting in the woods with BB guns.

“C’mon, you two. We’re supposed to be shooting.” Lina remarked from her range.

“Can’t we do something else? Something that I’m actually _good_  at?” Church whined.

Carolina laughed. “That really limits your options then.”

Wash cut in, if only to stop Church’s head from exploding. “Why don’t we go to the gym instead? I could really use a trip.”

“Sure. I'll gladly kick both your asses in a sparring match.”

They departed from the shooting range, Church riding along with Carolina. Wash was grateful for the small time alone. He pulled up to the Blood Gulch Athletic Club, parking as close as he could to Carolina’s beast that had beaten him here. She was a speed demon driving, so it was no surprise that they reached the gym first.

He pulled open the double doors and breathed in. Tucker was the one on front desk. Shit. He hoped Lina didn’t do something stupid in response to the shitty pick up lines. Washington handed his gym I.D. over to Tucker, cringing at his laugh. Oh god. He was going to get made fun of for his I.D. picture. Again.

“Church gave up on the shooting range that quickly? Must be a new record.”

Wash laughed awkwardly as his card was scanned, taken aback by the lack of shitty pick-up lines. “How’d you know?”

“Wash, Church has been my best friend since middle school. He’s not that hard to figure out.” Tucker remarked, handing the card back and drumming his hands on the counter. Wash raised an eyebrow at him. Tucker wasn’t normally so perceptive when it came to Church.

Tucker sighed. “Ok, so maybe he stormed past the counter muttering something about his shitty aim and a gun range. Wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”

Washington nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

He left the front desk, making his way to the table Church and Lina were huddled around. Church seemed unaware of Wash’s presence, staring off intently towards the weights room. For that matter, Carolina was also staring off into the weights room. She had that look on her face she’d make around someone she thought about taking home with her. Wash shook the thought off and followed their line of sight. If whatever was going on in the weights room was enough to enrapture the attention of both his siblings, he wanted to be part of it. His eyes finally met what Lina and Church had been staring at and damn what a view that was. They’d been staring at a tall, well-built and olive skinned man lifting heavy weights, one in each hand. A bead of sweat trailed down from his blue hair and down his chest, drawing Wash’s eyes with it as it sailed down towards the edge of his shorts.

“Down, boy.” Carolina mocked, playfully punching him in the shoulder. Wash shrugged, keeping his eyes locked on those arm muscles as they flexed with each lift of the weights. He’d been going through pure hell for the past few weeks, and he _deserved_  to treat himself to this sight.

“Church has been staring at him since we got here.” Lina whispered, chuckling as she pulled away from Wash. He finally broke his gaze away to snicker at his brother.

Almost as if on cue, the man put down his weights and locked eyes with Church. Wash and Carolina watched, mouth agape, as the man broke out into a smile and waved for Church to come over. They could almost _feel_  the blush radiating from their brother as he scrambled out of his chair and tossed them a half-assed apology for leaving. Carolina was almost in stitches, tears prickling her eyes as she watched Church practically run towards the mystery man. Wash was laughing pretty hard himself. He’d never _seen_  his brother so eager for someone.

Carolina prodded Wash in the side. “C’mon, let’s go spar a little.”

He nodded and followed her towards the empty, open use rooms with one last glance over his shoulder at the weights room. Wash grabbed some of the mats lining the wall and threw them on the ground, helping his sister set up the room for their match. Lina threw down the last mat with a grunt.

“There’s some hand wraps in my bag, grab it will ya?” She instructed, crossing her arms over her chest. Wash did as instructed, rooting through Lina’s teal workout bag until he felt the rolled up wrap. He covered his hands in the stuff and tossed it over to his sister who did the same. Carolina tossed the rest of the wrap aside and began stretching.

“How’ve you been since I last saw you? If I remember right, you should be just on the tail end of your morning sickness.”

Wash scowled at the mention of his “side effects”. He didn’t want to think about that at all. Not today, not ever. He didn’t even _know_  why it was bothering him, but it was and now he was forced to talk about it for the second time today.

“It sucks.” Wash bit out.

Carolina huffed in frustration and stopped her warm-ups. “What’s wrong, Wash?”

Wash grunted, speeding up his stretches. “Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fine.”

“Wash--”

“Can we just spar already?” He snapped, irritation getting the best of him.

Carolina scowled at him. “Sure.”

Wash went into a fighting stance, already regretting snapping at his sister. He could see her frustration etched in her stance. Lina threw the first punch that he narrowly avoided. He countered with a side sweep that Carolina easily dodged, jumping over his legs and coming down on him hard. She threw another quick punch that landed square on his jaw.

Wash recoiled automatically, but no pain came. Increased pain tolerance, right. Just another reminder of his shitty month. He let all of his anger at his situation seep into his movements, driving him in a much more chaotic way. He easily dodged Carolina’s next throw, grabbing her outstretched arm and slamming her to the ground. She swept his feet out from under him. His back collided hard with the mat and a small ringing started up in his ears. Carolina used that moment of Wash’s stun to sit herself atop his chest to pin him down.

She let rip a lighter punch, a reflex left over from before he could handle real pain. He saw a flicker of worry in her eyes that she’d really hurt him, before it was replaced by remembrance and then anger once more. She began unloading full punches on him.

“Why. Won’t. You. Tell. Me. What’s. Wrong.” Carolina gritted out between blows. Wash threw her off and finally landed his first punch to her nose. He threw a second punch to throw her off-balance and used the momentum to tackle her to the ground. He beat on her in a similar fashion to what she’d done to him, anger fully taking the reigns of his motions.

“Because. I never. Asked. For this.” Wash yelled, stopping his motions when he saw the look on Lina’s face. For just a moment, she looked understanding. For just a moment, he regretted asking to spar. Carolina gave him a glare of raw anger.

“None of us asked for this, David.” She spat, punching him hard enough in the temple to make him see black.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be referring to these monthly outings as Camp Davids, because that's what they are (discussed in a later chapter). If you enjoyed the story so far, come talk to me on my tumblr! http://grimmons.tk


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington has the time of his life recovering from Lina's injury and waking up at 5:30am to work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update this!

**** Wash awoke on the floor of the gym, head pounding and snot dripping from his nose.

 

No, no wait-- it was blood.

 

He touched his nose gingerly, determining it not to be broken. Church sat on a chair in the corner of the room tapping away at his phone. Typical. Carolina, on the other hand, was nowhere to be seen. 

 

He rolled onto his side, scrambling for whatever energy he had left in him to try to stand up. Church locked his phone with a huff. “It’s about time you came to. Do you know how long I had to sit here and watch over your unconscious ass? Fifteen minutes. That’s fifteen minutes I could’ve been spending with Caboose, or doing literally anything else.”

 

Wash rolled his eyes at his brother, wiping away the remaining blood from his nose onto the spare rag he kept in his gym bag. He gets injured and suddenly  _ he’s _ the asshole. Wash stuffed the rag back into its pocket. “Who’s Caboose?”

 

“Hello!”

 

Wash jumped at the cheery voice behind him. He must be really on edge lately.

 

Wash turned around to see the man they were ogling at earlier standing right before him with a large smile spread across his face. He had to be standing at least seven inches taller than himself, which Wash detested, but the man still wasn’t wearing a shirt and Wash’s line of sight wasn’t all that bad.

 

“You-- you must be Caboose.” Wash stated, forcibly pulling his eyes from the man’s chest to make eye contact.

 

“Yes! How did you know that?”

 

Wash sighed. “Call it a sixth sense.”

 

Church elbowed him in the side, casting a shy, playful smile at Caboose. Wash threw up a little in his mouth. 

 

“C’mon, we better get going. I want to get home so I can sleep.”

 

Church scowled at him, but didn’t argue to stay. They gave Caboose a wave as they left, Wash groaning as they passed by the desk where Tucker was at.

 

“You really got your ass handed to ya, huh Wash?” Tucker snickered.

 

Washington flipped him off, not looking at the man as he left the gym’s entrance, Church straggling behind. He appreciated the fresh air on his tongue, though it did little to soothe the throb harboring in his nose. Distantly, he heard Church’s growl of frustration that Wash wasn’t bothering to wait up for him, but he didn’t really care. He just wanted this day to be over as soon as possible. It wasn’t his fault Church had short legs and couldn’t keep up.

 

He threw his gym bag carelessly into the back of his car and climbed into the driver’s seat, waiting irritably for Church to take the passenger seat. Thankfully, he did so without a stupid, asshole comment about him always being left behind.

 

Wash pulled the car out of the lot, driving in silence, spare the indie music filtering from Church’s phone, for most of the way back to his house until Church finally spoke up.

 

“I thought you were gonna take me home, Wash. I can’t exactly walk back to my apartment from your place.”

 

Wash frowned, grip tightening on the steering wheel. Fuck, he’d forgotten that Church needed a way to get home. He didn’t want to drive the half hour out of his way to drop his ass off though.

 

“Text Grif to pick you up at my place. He should be leaving for his art class by the time we get back.”

 

“I don’t want to ride with Grif. He’s going to kill me with how he drives.” Church whined, crossing his arms.

 

Wash laughed dryly, not giving Church’s pissiness a second thought. “Tough shit. Either take the ride from Grif, or take the city bus home.”

 

Church huffed in agitation but said nothing else. He stared at his phone instead, tapping away at the screen, hopefully to procure himself a ride.

 

“Drop me off at Grif’s place.” Was all Church said for the rest of the ride, hopping out of the car without a glance back once Wash had parked out front of the small house Grif resided in. He watched his brother disappear through the front door and left before Grif could flip him off for having to drive Church around.

 

Wash drove the last two minutes to his own house in total silence; no music, no engine rumbling, no annoying sighs from his brother. Just pure, blissful silence. 

 

He parked in the driveway, irritably throwing his front door open and flopping down on his bed, which seemed to be a habit nowadays. He just constantly felt wiped, both emotionally and physically. Wash closed his eyes, pulling his pillow close, and praying sleep would find him even as he laid in his jeans.

 

 

* * *

 

 

His alarm woke him with a loud beeping, announcing it was time to get his ass out of bed. He stared at the numbers on the clock, straining his eyes to make sure he was reading them right.

 

5:30am.

 

Kill him now.

 

Wash rolled out of bed, trudging his way to the coffee pot and blearily brewing a batch.

 

Why in god’s name did he set his alarm so early?

 

Oh yeah. That stupid training thing that York invited him too. Briefly, he thought about ditching, but his phone buzzing in his pockets stopped that train in its tracks.

 

_ **Unknown Number** _

_ u better not be thinking about ditching us. we will find u. -york _

 

Wash frowned at the small text on displayed on the screen.

 

**_David_ **

_ How did you get my number? _

 

**_York_ **

_ lina gave it to me when i picked u up at that hospital _

 

He pocketed his phone and stared at the coffee machine as it hummed in work. It was nice and quiet, just the way he preferred his mornings. He didn’t prefer to be up before the sun, however.

 

Wash jumped at the beep of the coffee machine signifying it was done brewing and removed the pot, foregoing a cup and drinking a straight shot of the bitter liquid fresh from its container. He grimaced at the horrible taste, but it was enough to at least wake him up to get ready for the day.

 

It was 5:50am when he finally got into his car, piling everything he needed for his toddler storytime later that day into the backseat. He pulled out of his neighborhood, watching dismally as the houses began to scatter until there were only thick trees lining the sides of the road. York had somehow managed to scribble directions to the park they were meeting at on a napkin the last time he was at Wash’s house, and he followed them as best he could. York’s handwriting was pretty sloppy. 

 

Wash parked at the edge of the grass, breathing in slowly as he tried to wake himself up fully. He plucked his jacket off the passenger seat and threw it on haphazardly before setting foot into the chilly morning air.

 

York waved when he saw Wash approach the field. Wash found himself breaking into a mirror smile of York’s. Fuck.

 

North chuckled under his breath. “Hello again, Washington.”

 

He gave Wash a comforting smile. Wash almost returned it, but his gaze fell upon the behemoth of a man standing just beside North.

 

Holy _shit_ , was he huge.

 

York seemed to pick up on his confusion, jumping in with a clap to his shoulder. “Wash, meet Maine. The final member of our pack.”

 

“Hu--hi.” Wash stuttered.

 

Maine only smiled at him.

 

“So!” York clapped, a smirk playing off his face as he watched Wash startle. “Like any, y’know, _regular_  training sessions, you’re gonna have to stretch out.”

 

Wash shrugged. “What type of workout am I stretching for?”

 

“Running, for now.” North chimed in, voice soft and soothing. 

 

Wash sighed. _God_  did he hate running. Why would anyone subject themselves to such torture? 

 

He started out with some light arm and leg swings, switching over to lunges when he was done.

 

“Damn, that’s a nice ass.” York wolf whistled.

 

North hit him in the arm and Wash stopped his lunges, face growing furiously scarlet. York wasn’t talking about him, was he?

 

“What did I tell you about saying stuff like that to people we’ve barely met?” North scolded him. Wash had to hold in a laugh at how often they’ve had this conversation for his words to come out so harsh.

 

York shrugged. “I call ‘em as I see ‘em, North. I’m a connoisseur of asses.”

 

“That’s because you _are_  an ass.” North quipped.

 

Wash chuckled, finishing up the last of his stretches and looking towards the others for direction of what to do next. York made a shooing motion with his hands. 

 

He could take a hint.

 

Wash set a nice pace for himself as he started out with a jog before sprinting along the trail of the mountains. It was quite beautiful outside. The sun was still rising and most of the forest was bathed in the last marks of blue shadows while the tree tops were beginning to regain their color, if tainted by the sunrise. 

 

A squirrel darted onto the trail and he stopped to watch as it cleaned itself and sniffed the ground. Wash held out a hand tentatively for the squirrel to sniff and smiled softly as it perked up. He continued on the trail once it’d scampered off.

 

The woods were so calm, so peaceful. It’s as if everything was put on pause and he was walking through a picture. Wash found himself in love with the area by the end of his run.

 

York laughed at what must’ve been an awestruck look painted across his face. Wash rolled his eyes at him.

 

“What’s next?” He asked.

 

North gave Wash a very pointed look.

 

“I need you to shift, Wash. We can't get very far in our training if you never take your more powerful form.” He asked, undertones of command ebbing each words.

 

Wash’s eyes widened in fear. No, he couldn't go back to being one of those-- those _things_. He could accept the fact his body had a second form, and he could live through the hell and benefits that came with that, but he _could not_  handle turning back into the thing that nearly killed him almost a month ago.

 

Absentmindedly, his hands went to the scarring on his stomach.

 

“No. I can't. I--I _won't_.” He pleaded, voice coming out much more fragile than he'd wanted.

 

North's warmth and relaxed stance didn't change. He simply smiled at him. “I know it must be hard for you, given the circumstances of your turning, but--”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

North said nothing, only raising an eyebrow inquisitively.

 

“How do you know the circumstances of my turning?”

 

“Some things are better left unsaid.”

 

Wash sighed. He should've expected not to be getting a direct answer from North. Nobody _ever_  gave him a direct answer to his questions, which was complete bullshit.

 

“If it would make you feel less apprehensive, I can shift with you. I've found it’s calming for newer members to have someone else in wolf form.”

 

Wash shook his head. No way did he want to look another beast in the eyes yet.

 

He did as requested, getting down on all fours and waited. And waited. And waited.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Shifting. Am I not doing that?”

 

York broke out into a full-bodied laugh, actually bending over from how hard each one was hitting him. North chuckled a little too.

 

“You have to see it, Wash. Envision yourself as your second form. You can't just sit and hope it hits you.”

 

York was still cackling beside him, tears now streaming down his face. He placed an arm on North’s shoulder to steady himself before speaking.

 

“That's rich, Wash. That's fucking golden.”

 

Wash flipped him off from his position on the ground. He stared at the soft grass beneath him, following North’s advice. Envision yourself. So, if he thought of himself with paws--

 

He chanced a glance down at his hands to see them already curling into the shape of a wolf’s. Then the pain hits. It's searing and grueling, bones snapping in and out of place and fracturing to form new structures. He felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside. His skin tingles where fur starts to pop up, and just as quickly as it started, it's over. 

 

Wash looked up at North who returned his gaze with a fond smile. He felt slightly proud of himself for making it through.

 

“Nice job.” York remarked, offering him a thumbs up.

 

“Behind you is an obstacle course. You are to make it through all the trials as fast as you can. Directions for each objective are provided near the beginning of each station.” North told him, pointing to the convoluted maze of activities behind him.

 

Wash grimaced.

 

“Your time begins now.” York hollered, giving Wash a shove in the direction of the course.

 

He galloped to the first station and read the directions.

 

_**Scent Training:** Provided below is a sample of the scent from the object you are to find. It's hidden somewhere within the course itself and cannot be found without using your nose. _

 

Wash took a whiff of the scented paper at the bottom of the sign. It smelled almost like lavender. There was more writing on a separate sign at the other side of the obstacle opening.

 

_**Agility Training:** Clear all the provided hurdles with a single leap. If you do not make it over one, continue on anyway. _

 

He could do that. It was a simple enough request and he used to do pole vaulting in high school. This would be a piece of cake.

 

Wash prepared himself to leap over the first one. He pushed off the ground and hit the bar face first. It dislodged from its place and hit the grass before him. It took him a few seconds to wonder what his problem was.

 

He was a wolf, not a human. He'd have to really learn control of this form.

 

Wash easily cleared the next three hurdles and trotted onto the next course.

 

_**Endurance Training:** There are five red flags before you. Replace each one-by-one with a blue flag on the other end of the field. Only 1 can be held at a time. _

 

Wash grabbed a flag in his mouth, grimacing at the plastic’s taste in his mouth. He galloped across the open field, placing the flag in the bucket by the small board with the blue flags. He continued the process until there were only blue flags at the original post and ran once more across the open field. Wash panted as he moved on to the next station, already running out of stamina.

 

_**Agility Training:** There are four bars of varying heights spread across the stretch of field before you. You must jump over the hurdles while running. Don’t stop to jump. If you hit one, keep going. _

 

Jumping. That should be easy enough, right?

 

Wash took off down the length of the field, breaking into a gallop halfway to the first hurdle. Ok. He could do this. Just..jump. 

 

As he approached the first bar, he prepared himself to spring into action. His back paws were the only ones to actually go through the motion of jumping, sending him face-first through the bar.

 

What? How? He had everything down just fine…

 

Wash glared at the howling laughter coming from York on the opposite end of the field. He’d growl at him if he wasn’t so terrified of the sound. 

 

He continued down the track, only successfully clearing the final bar after he adjusted to his new form’s range of motion. Saying he was embarrassed was an understatement at best.

 

North smiled at him when he returned to the group. York held his hand out to Wash.

 

What was he supposed to do with that? Sniff it? It seemed to be the only reason he’d do such a thing, so Wash obliged him. His hand smelled like a horrid combination of soap, rubber, lavender, and something Wash could only classify as _York_.

 

What a minute, didn't the object he needed to find smell like lavender? Was York's hand the object? If York's smirk was anything to go by, the answer was yes. That bastard.

 

York moved his hand out of Wash’s face and placed it on his head, scratching a little bit as he stroked the fur there. It was nice, really. Relaxing almost.

 

He let his eyes flutter close and tail wag in pleasure as York continued his petting. Of all the things that happened that morning, this _had_  to be the most embarrassing one, but he didn’t really care. It felt nice, and that’s what mattered. Right?   
  


“You made pretty decent time for your first run. Need to work on that agility course though.” North remarked, fiddling with his watch for some reason. 

 

Probably to check Wash’s start and end time, but he didn’t know North that well. Perhaps he damaged it or something.

 

“That’s my area of expertise.” York winked, stroking behind Wash’s ear one last time before moving away.

 

Wash took that as his cue to change back, gritting his teeth through the pain of his bones splitting once more as he regained a human physique. He shook the grass stuck in hair out and smiled at the group.

 

York checked his watch with a happy hum. “We finished a lot earlier than I thought we would. How about we go out for some donuts and coffee? Sound like a plan?”

 

North and Maine nodded in agreement. York threw them a small smirk. “You two don’t really have much of a choice, you rode here with me, remember?”

 

North smacked him on the back of the head. “You also agreed that I would drive us back, dumbass.”

 

York looked pleadingly to Wash, waiting on his answer. It was barely eight and he didn’t have to be at work until nine, so what was the harm in picking up breakfast? He was aching for something sugary and would fill him with regret later.

 

“Yeah, all right.”

 

York whooped and threw his fist in the air. “Road trip!”

 

Wash shook his head, smiling in amusement. They departed with a small chat filtering between them about some football team. He thinks. The only thing he really picked up from their conversation was to follow North’s car, because York wanted to go to a place called _Pink Box Donuts_.

 

The shop was surprisingly small but had an incredible selection of sugary goodness and hot coffee. Wash dug into his half dozen box, easily finishing half of it before realizing the rest of the place was staring at him. He wiped his mouth in embarrassment. 

 

Fuck, why did _he_  always have to do the embarrassing stuff? Couldn’t someone else do something embarrassing for once?

 

York clapped his hands on the table with a smirk. “So I see your morning sickness has passed, thank god.”

 

Huh? Oh yeah. He’d been in crippling stomach pain and vomiting his guts for the past few weeks. He must’ve gotten so caught up in how shitty everything else was to realize that hurdle was passed.

 

“Looks like your sex drive kick is next. Whether or not that’s a rut or heat is unknown, though I suspect you’ll be going through a heat.” North remarks calmly, leveling him with a serious look.

 

Wash nearly spat his coffee across the table. What the fuck? Heat? Rut? He didn’t want to talk about this over breakfast. He didn’t want to talk about his werewolfness at all right now. He needed an excuse to book it.

 

Wash pulls out his phone and double checks the time. 8:50 am. _Fuck_ , he didn’t need to make a fake excuse anymore because if he didn’t leave right then he was going to be in deep shit with Kimball.

 

He scrambled to gather up his donuts and coffee, shoving his anxiety over being late down as far as he could.

 

“Listen, as much as I’d love to stay and talk about my sex life, or lack of, I really need to go. I’m going to be cutting it close as is.” Wash mumbled, words jumbling together and coming out in a blur. Fuck, this was bad.

 

North nodded in understanding and York gave him a look that practically screamed “I don’t believe you”.

 

“We’ll see you soon, Wash.” North dismissed him. Thank god.

 

Wash practically flew out out of the donut shop, jumping into his car and revving off in record speed. Fuck, he couldn’t be late. It was his first day back after using so much sick time and Kimball was relying on him to do the opening story time.

 

Fuck.

 

He pulled into the parking lot of the library with a screech. Wash pulled out the bags of crafts and glitter glue set aside in the back of his car and hastily ran into the back entrance to the library. He clocked-in in record time and is at the YPL desk just as the clock hits nine. Kimball smirked from her spot at the desk, glancing at him over the top of her computer.

 

“Close call there, Wash.”

 

He nodded, setting his bags down for a breather before he had to set everything up in the story room for his storytime.

 

“Went to breakfast with some friends. Kind of lost track of time.”

 

Kimball snorted, scanning in some of the board books stacked next to her. She gave him a dismissive smile, which he appreciated. He wasn’t much for small talk with co-workers. 

 

Or in general.

 

“Thanks for dumping your lousy brother off with me yesterday.”

 

Wash smiled at the gruffness of Grif’s “hello”. That’s what he loved about him; there was no sugarcoating anything. If you wanted to know something, Grif would tell you as it is. Straight and to the point. Sure, it may have caused some problems between them in high school, but nothing’s ever perfect.

 

Grif grimaced when he turned around to respond. “Jesus you look like shit.”

 

Straight and to the point.

  
“Thank you.” Wash deadpanned, cursing the fondness that was still in his voice.

 

“I’m gonna guess you haven’t been sleeping lately.”

 

Wash brushed a hand over his face. “Yeah, it’s been pretty bad lately--”

 

“Don’t care.” Grif cut him off, taking his seat at the desk and sorting through his stack of children’s books for his own storytime. Wash rolled his eyes.

 

“You could at least _pretend_  to care, Grif. For Wash’s sake.”

 

Simmons stood behind him, half leaned against his cart of books and half leaned against the desk in front of Grif. Grif shook his head. “How many years have you known me, Simmons?”

 

Simmons huffed, pushing the cart away from him and towards Wash. “Too many.”

 

He turned his attention towards Wash. “How’ve you been?”

 

Wash shook his head. Trust in Simmons to sugar coat everything. “I’m fine.”

 

He scowled at Grif’s snort and accompanying yell of bullshit. Simmons flipped him off and returned his attention back to Wash.

 

“Listen, Wash. Do you, um-- do you think I could talk to you for a second? In the back room?”

 

Wash nodded, curious as to what Simmons could need; it was obvious in his tone that it was important to him and emotionally charged, but he wasn’t quite sure why Simmons needed to talk to him now. He wasn’t one to normally talk about feelings outside of crying around an ice cream bowl, and he had a pentiant for being almost someone else entirely at work. Whatever he needed to talk about was big, and he had to know what out of curiosity instead of concern. Was that bad? Probably. Not that Wash cared at the moment.

 

Simmons shut the door behind them, double checking that the back room was devoid of other people. He took a shaky breath in and spoke so fast that Wash almost missed what he was saying.

 

“Why do you still take jobs from Tex?”

 

Wash knit his brows in confusion. “How do you know that?”

 

Simmons didn’t meet his eyes, but he could see his lips curl up at the edges. “I was spending the day with Grif’s family, Kai and Bitters, and Bitter brought over his boyfriend Matthews. Matthews was talking about his brother York and all the missions he went on involving Tex, and everyone associated with her. Your name came up for the most recent outing. I didn’t know at first, hearsay and all that, but you just confirmed it for me.”

 

It took Wash a few minutes to fully process what Simmons had told him, but the frail look Simmons gave him told him that he needed to reassure his best friend that he was out of danger. He’d have to lie to him. Again.

 

“Look, Simmons, it was my last one, ok? A few years back she rescued Epsilon from a tough spot and I feel like I owe her, all right?”

 

Simmons laughed dryly. “Matthews mentioned you were hospitalized with severe wounds. Said you almost died that night.”

 

Wash gave him a small smile. “But I’m here now.”

 

Simmons visibly chokes back another laugh and it makes Wash feel horrible.

 

“Yeah. You’re here now. And that’s what counts, right?”

 

Wash only smiled and wrapped his best friend in a bear hug. That’s what mattered.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try and update within the coming week, but don't hold me to that.


End file.
